Mission Impossible
by DorkNation0221
Summary: Pansy Parkinson was happy. She was rich, beautiful, and decently intelligent. Everything was looking up, or at least it was. Now her fathers dead and she's got a semester to con Ronald Weasley out of his heart -or else. Especially when all she has on her side are her wits, good looks, and an extensive knowledge of muggle love songs.
1. Chapter 1

The day he took over the manor Draco and I were arguing. Despite the childishness of the argument I still remember what we were going on about. Summer had become unbearable-even with magic- and so Draco and I were floating a hundred or so feet from the ground debating the usefulness of the levitation spell on a body when a house elf came calling.

"Master and Miss are wanted in the study!" His little elf had never been so shaken, but at the time I'd chalked it up to a beating.

Draco was slow to descend. He'd always been content to slow about in a show of superiority, yet today Mink would have none of it. The poor thing scurried along beside us rushing until Draco threatened to plant a boot in his head.

That shut him up.

Despite the heavy heat outside the manor was cold. My charmed summer shorts now seemed unnecessary as we wandered through the long darkened halls of the manor.

I only realized that someone shut the curtains once it was too late.

The door to Lucius Malfoy's study was cracked open a mite, pulsing with an unsettling energy.

Draco knocked, flinching when the door swung open. Oak that heavy didn't just _swing._ He stepped in first and for a while all I saw was his desperate attempt not to back pedal.

Braver, I stepped around him -glance averted- and curtsied. Draco fell into step with me both of us speaking with a well rehearsed, "pleasure."

"Rise," his voice slithered over my skin like slugs, but I did as ordered. If I knew what I know now I'd have rode away on that broom without looking back.

There sitting in Lucius' chair was the Dark Lord. His skin was pale as ever, dark eyes glowing eerily, "it has come to my attention that your fathers are...incapable of taking _care_ of a few of your classmates." Mr. Malfoy gulped, grey eyes pointed adamantly downwards. He was practically kneeling! "Mr. Weasley and Ms. Granger," he paused, waiting for a reaction no doubt, "I assume you know of them?"

"Yes, my Lord." I was the first to speak. Draco remained quiet, Adam's apple bobbing incessantly. I nudged him.

"Yes, my Lord."

"He speaks." He laughed at his own joke before sobering once more, "you'll be taking care of them for me." He said it nonchalantly, like that mud-blood Granger couldn't rid the world of my presence in moments. This was a death wish, a suicide mission! It was punishment for _their_ failures, punishment I would have nothing to do with.

"My Lord," I bowed again as I approached. For this to work I had to appear as docile as possible, "I am honored to be chosen by you, but I cannot accept this honor." He sneered, bloody eyes planted firmly on my face. Any minute now I'd feel him crawling through my mind, so I forced images of my demise to the forefront of my mind -all poorly disguising an image of me standing above Weasley's weeping form as my father suffered the humiliation of having been one upped by his 'brainless' daughter. "I'm far too weak to take either of those headstrong muggles on." I admitted, "there must be another way. A way to crush their spirits and then their bodies."

He leaned forward in the chair causing both Malfoys to flinch, "do you believe me to be swayed by your feminine wiles?" He placed his fingers beneath my chin, forcing my head up. My stomach was doing nauseated somersaults and my skin was coated in ice.

"No," and then when he raised what might have been an eyebrow I added, "my Lord." It went down, "I'm merely trying to act in a way that is more likely to carry out your will." There it went. That slimy, sticky, frozen presence burning deep within the recesses of my mind- had finally come. He poked around before retreating. He'd found nothing beyond what I'd given.

It wasn't until I considered if my lip gloss needed reapplying that he decided he was done with me.

"A fresh coat might be wise," he gave me a moment, making a grand gesture that implied he was at his leisure. I could see the cogs turning in his mind. Pieces were falling into place, "after all you may need it." He grinned at the confusion on both our faces.

"You'll need it because you two are to woo Mr. Weasley and Ms. Granger, and if you don't bring them back to the manor for Christmas break," he paused as he waved his wand. My father and brother appeared in the study as well, cowering instantly against the wall.

"Y-yes, my Lord."

"If you don't return with Potter's pets," another wave and both brother and Mr. Malfoy were chained and shackled by my neck, arms, and feet, "say bye bye to their heads." I was ready to nod, I'd agree to anything to get away at this point. Yet, his wand was still in his hand, dangling jovially between his fingers. He zigzagged the tip, moving as if performing for children, " _avada kedavra._ " My father hid the hard wood of the study like a bag of potatoes.

"You may go." Draco and I hightailed it out of there barely coherent enough to bow before slamming the door behind us.

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	2. Chapter 2

"We could have taken them." Draco insisted for the fifth time, "I could have hexed that bookworm good and dragged her back by her hair." Now that he was free from the Dark Lord's scrutiny he seemed to have learned how to use his tongue again, much to my dismay.

"And how embarrassing would it have been to have to dust yourself off while that mud-blood is sneering cockily down at you while you dust off your robes and run off to the dungeons?" It may have been harsh, but most of Gryffindor spent last year in the RoR training.

I'd seen it and I didn't care to fight it. After all most of my year was spent perfecting my hair dying spell and Draco spent a considerable amount of time eating the cakes his mother sent him.

He glared, mouth clamped shut as if he were grinding his teeth. With him quiet I was free to browse the library.

Here -in muggle London- the books didn't come when called. However, luck would have it that there was a thing called 'amish' so she didn't question our ignorance any further. Well, that is, after she finished laughing.

She guided Draco and I through the process of checking out books or using the computers. Everything was deceivingly simple and left me with an itch to know more about their strange devices. The tour didn't go on for too long before she left us to the many CDs on the wall with a last reminder to use the headphones.

If one thing was the same across the two worlds it was the librarians.

Draco was plenty difficult when it came to searching music. This database was flawed and held none of the music we knew, but instead it was filled to bursting with love songs layered over one of the same three synthetic beats.

Most of the songs were accompanied by a men standing on the cover with their chests bared. Each had a sultry expression painted on their faces, lips plumped and eyes cast heavenward.

"Any other ideas?" The library was closing in an hour and we were no closer to finding a song, "because Flitwick will sooner grow three feet than let us sing any of these."

I shuffled upwards, picking through the collection again. To get to the King he needed to get to the Queen. She played her friends like pieces of a chess game. If she thought we'd changed our ways -even just a little- she'd make Weasley cooperate.

The back to school concert just so happened to be the best place to put that into motion. What better way to show case our intentions? Besides, Draco and I have been apart of the dumb choir since first year. We were this years soloists, it was already confirmed. So if I had to write a muggle song myself I would.

"What about this one?" The plastic packaging was caked in dust and didn't feature a young, naked man. Promising. We popped it in and nestled back against the shelf again.

Blaise found all of this ridiculously funny. There wasn't a part of the story -save the murder of my father or the entrapment of our family members- that he didn't find hilarious. It wasn't until a certain red head poked her head into the train car did he wish us luck and shimmy out with her.

Part of me envied Blaise. His family was blissfully removed from the perils associated with Voldemort. I hadn't allowed myself to dwell on it just yet, my Fathers death I mean, because if I did I'd fall apart. Had it been Blaise's own father he'd have spent weeks mourning the loss and whoever had been foolish enough to rid Madam Zabini of her love would be promptly given the same curtesy.

Yet I had to stuff and shove my feelings as deeply down as I could as I served the same Lord who'd taken him from me, because if I didn't that would mean another life on my conscience.

The train slowed to a stop leaving Draco and I little time to mentally prepare. Despite being a part of the chorus for six years I'd never been given a solo. Leads were usually given to Gryffindors or Hufflepuffs and this year Draco and I were the first Slytherin leads for twenty years.

I still remembered the audition. Flitwick originally hadn't planned to give me a chance. He'd been too busy and my name was always conveniently removed from the list. It had taken following him to every class through every corridor to every meeting singing whatever came to mind.

A month had gone by, long past auditions, when he finally relented and reopened the try outs for everyone. I doubted it was anything short of a miracle that both Draco and I made it.

The professor was in his own carriage, shepherding his sheep into the wooden box.

"Welcome back!" His eyes didn't land on Draco or I, but we didn't mind. We were used to it, "when we get in there I want everyone to line up just before the podium." By the time we get changed the sorting would have been over with. "Remember, keep your eyes on me and do your best."

With that being said he swung open the doors of the carriage and sent us on our way.

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	3. Chapter 3

Our costumes were inspired by our song choices. My own was a charming polka dotted dress better suited to the 50's than now layered with tulle. Draco on the other hand was happily prancing around the castle in a purple that sparkled in the candlelight.

I didn't doubt that his top didn't restrict his breathing.

He was up first. The candles floating around the choir dimmed so that they faded into the background. From the middle -near the bass- to the outer corners of the group the song began as a humming only vaguely reminiscent of the human voice.

"Each day through my window I watch her as she passes by," He slid free of the darkness enshrouding the rest of the choir. His movements were silk on skin and his voice was like honey.

The ah's spread through the group in parts one, two, three -bass, alto, soprano. There was a moment when the humming and the background fell a way -it was just a beat- and then he took a step forward and-

"Every night, on my knees, I pray!" The choir came back full force in a brief explosion, "Don't ever let another take her love from me or I will surely die." He spun on his heels letting the candlelight follow him along the tables. His hand extended to his audience, reveling in the attention he was getting, but his eyes were set on her.

"But in reality..." he paused before the Gryffindors, grey eyes boring into her brown ones, "she doesn't even know me." She melted in his hands, toffee gaze turning into brownie dough in moments.

Weasley and Potter looked nauseous.

The candles return to their former brilliance and Slytherin table led the Hall in a grand round of applause. He bowed for them, ignoring the fact that this wasn't a solo performance.

I was next. There was no fear in me as I stood in the place recently vacated by Draco.

"The moment I wake up," I stood before the great hall, twisting my hips in what was supposed to be a demure way.

"I say a little prayer for you," the choir backed me up there while the other half remained committed to the oohs and the ahhs. My hands drifted elegantly to the right-coincidentally- toward the Gryffindor table. He was looking, face screwed up in the most unflattering way as he watched my performance.

I'd never seen anyone so confused in all of my life.

"Forever, forever you'll stay in my heart!"

I kissed my hand, rouge staining my palm, and blew the kiss outwards. It multiplied until it was a hundred times its original size and blew outwards. Out of 12 enchanted kisses I made certain one of them made it to Weasley.

It was the responsible thing to do. Besides, it was decently fun watching him scrub incessantly at the mark on his cheek.

A week after classes had begun and we'd yet to see progress. Granger may have been momentarily struck stupid by Draco's performance, but it would seem that she was now determined to stay far away from him. There was never a time when she was alone, making it considerably harder to speak with her.

Weasley was even more impossible. We didn't share any classes and his schedule was so very different from my own that I wasn't sure how I was going to force him to like me. Well, that is until I happened upon a certain head girl.

Her chin was jutted forward, shoulders squared, and badge glinting in the sun. She was busy looking over something she'd scribbled in a book when I stepped out on front of her.

We collided with such force the contents of my bag went flying. Parchment and quills lined the hallway and there -lying at her feet- sat a cleverly charmed version on Hogwarts a History.

She picked it up gingerly, "excuse me. I wasn't looking." Her tone was a polite and empty as one would expect.

"Actually," I dropped to my knees trying to rearrange my scattered things, "it's my fault. I was so busy reading that I didn't see you."

"I understand." She handed it back and dropped beside me to help gather my things, "Ronald always teases me about it. He says I'm a weapon of mass destruction. He," the amusement in her expression faded out as she realized what she was doing. Similar book taste or not we were still enemies.

"He what?" I kept my expression neutral, shoving things into folders and folders into my bag.

"He still hasn't been able to remove that kiss you cursed onto his face."

"Oh?" I shouldered the bag and took my charmed Potions textbook from her hands, "well maybe you should advise him to look within himself."

*******  
The songs used above were  
Say a Little Prayer by Aretha Franklin, but I imagine the Glee version and then Just my Imagination by the Temptations

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	4. Chapter 4

This was absolutely rich. Ickle Ronnikins had a crush on me. How cute. While it made for a laugh it also made my job harder. People in denial were always the hardest to convince. They went to insane measures to avoid being put in uncomfortable positions.

I was contemplating my next plan of action when one of my investments came dropping into the chair before me.

There were quills in her hair and questions in her eyes.

"How do you know Aretha Franklin?"

I shifted in my seat, shoulders rolled back and expression neutral, "the library. Draco and I found ourself in muggle London a month or so ago and I fell in love with the arrangement." It was a formal response, polite, but not warm. If it were she'd be suspicious and what good would that do?

She fidgeted for a moment revealing her plans to me as clearly as if she'd written them.

"The other tables are full," she began. She wouldn't meet my eyes, it was as if she believed she was committing an unspeakable act, "so if you don't mind -or if you do I'll go ask someone else!"

"It's fine." I assured her. It was hard to keep the smirk off my lips, "I was just leaving." That wasn't true. I'd gone out of my way to secure a good spot, but if it meant gaining Granger as an ally then so be it.

"You don't have to." She twirled the quill between her fingers, "It is your table."

"Nonsense," I gathered my books, silencing her attempts, "I've got a few things I need to do." Her mouth opened and closed a few times before she shut it once more.

"He still can't remove the kiss."

I debated, weighing good and bad. The chances of her being guided by her do-gooder personality rather than her obvious latent adoration of the ginger were at least 70-30.

"Here," I dug out Love Spells for Fools (In Love). Her face contorted for a moment in sheer indignation as she flipped through the table of contents, "it's a detection spell." Color rose to my cheeks and I bowed my head in mock embarrassment.

"I had to know."

She remained silent, glaring at the pages of the text. It wouldn't be long now. I was sure of it.

"She's avoiding me," Draco slumped against the couch, hair hanging in his face, "I tried to corner her after class today," He ran a hand through his hair, "and she _ran!_ " I allowed myself a moment to contemplate how best to phrase my thoughts before settling on violence. My newspaper sounded off against the back of his head.

"What was that for?" He nursed the sore spot.

"How do you catch a bird?"

He grumbled a bit before twisting away from me, "you let it come to you and once it's in your hand," he snapped them shut, "you catch it."

"Exactly," I unrolled the paper, "anyone would run away if they were being aggressively stalked through dark hallways." At least he had the decency to look ashamed.

Someone hit the entrance to our common room with a _phwoom._ The castle shook with the force of whatever was on the other end and then _bang bang BANG!_ I'd say someone was ramming their fist against the portrait but there was no one with so much force in their bodies -let alone their fists.

I pulled my layered hair back, knotting it around the band so that each lock was accounted for.

Draco and I eased toward the portrait wands drawn. There, standing on the wrong end of a stupefy, was Ronald Weasley. He lay slumped against the wall, pain and anger painted across his face in puce.

Sirens sounded in my mind ringing loud and strong as I realized the irreparable damage I may have caused.

"Parkinson!" Draco stood in front of me, wand still raised.

"What the fuck is your problem Weasel? I nearly blew you into Professor Snape's room." I pulled a few strands from my severe bun, pinching my cheeks, and loosening my tie.

Shit! When my hair was up my features were too strong, too manly, but I couldn't undo it now. I would look like I was trying to impress him.

"Your fucking girlfriend told Hermione I was into her!" He struggled to stand, the weight of the curse undone by sheer will. This was the moment that would shape all moments, but what to choose? Sticking to my pure blood teaching would let him know I was interested. He'd see me a delicate, decide to protect me, but I couldn't. I couldn't go about these next few months simpering and flinching, that wasn't me.

"I didn't tell your little girlfriend anything," I stalked up to him, satisfied when I saw he was barely taller than me, "she asked me about the kiss mark and I told her." His body was locked in place, as if someone petrified him, but all wands were down. His face paled and the came back to life going as red as my cheeks from his neck to his ears.

"St-" his voice broke and he took a step back, "stay away from her Parkinson, I mean it." He shoved his hands into his pockets and rushed down the hallway. Once he was gone I sagged against the wall.

I cupped my hands, but did not close them, "just like catching a bird."

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